Regrets
by NeedsmoarDelta
Summary: It's Wendy's senior year, and after she makes a huge mistake, can she convince Stan to get back together?
1. Prologue The Morning After

_A/N: __I have wanted to write something from Wendy's POV for a while and randomly came up with this. Enjoy, and please review! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or any of the characters, except for Cassandra (Cass), who'll show up more in the next chapter. _

I wake up with a start; sitting straight up and banging my head on something metal and cold.

"Fuck!" I slump back down and moan.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I begin to see outlines: a bar in the corner, a television and an old couch that's losing its stuffing. I look up and see a lamp, one of those metal, industrial hanging types. _Well, that explains the head injury_, I think to myself as I pull the cord and bright light floods the room. A chemistry set sits in a corner, above it a framed photo of an 8 year old Stan and his dog, Sparky, smiles down at me. I feel a strange texture under my thigh, soft and matted, kind of like felt.

What. The. Fuck. I'm in Stan's basement, lying on his pool table. In my underwear. I don't know where the hell my clothes went, and I don't care. I just want to get out of here ASAP. I hop off the pool table, my body screaming in protest. My head is on fire and my stomach is doing back flips.

I suppress a groan and try to think. _How much did I have to drink? Where the hell are my clothes?_ Then hazy memories of last night start coming back to me. _Shit._ I grab a blue button down (probably one of Mr. Marsh's) that lies carelessly on floor and put it on. Stealthily I creep upstairs and sneak across the living room, glancing at the digital clock on the mantle. 5:44 am. I wonder if it's too early to stop back home and grab some clothes without waking up Dad and Cass.

I tiptoe out the front door, regretting it as soon as my bare feet hit the frozen sidewalk. "Shit!" With my feet on fire, I hop/run to Bebe's, figuring that it was closer. Besides, I needed someone talkative right about now. I'm pounding on the door and hopping from one foot to another; cursing under my breath by the time Bebe finally answers. Her wavy blonde hair is matted and frizzy, her hazel eyes crusted with sleep.

"Wendy? What the hell happened?"

"Can I come in?" I plead, "It's so goddamn cold I think it might have frostbite or something."

Bebe ushers me in and I step onto the warm, plush carpet. _Heaven._ I wiggle my numb toes, trying to put some feeling back into them while Bebe messes around in the kitchen, making herbal tea from some pack her mom had in the pantry.

"God, I'm so hung over," she complains as we sit on the couch, warm mugs in hand.

"So," she began, "what the hell happened?"

I take a deep breath and sigh. "Well…um…remember Craig's party last night?"

Bebe laughs. "Barely."

Bebe, Powder, Millie, Red and I were having a sleepover at Heidi's house. Heidi's step dad and her mom went to Aspen for the weekend and told us that we were welcome to stay and keep Heidi company. Red found out that the boys were having a party at Craig's; bored out of our minds, we decided to crash it. We set out, slightly drunk after raiding the liquor cabinet; and snuck through the back door. None of the guys looked particularly surprised to see us, but maybe they were drunk too. The rest of night was somewhat of a blur, with Kevin bringing Stoli that his cousin had given him; and Red, Millie and Heidi puking in the bushes behind the house. But then- I sigh again, and Bebe looks up at me with concern. "Wendy, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

I blurt out, "IhadsexwithKyle."

"What?" Bebe looks confused.

So I start over, making sure to speak slowly, "I had sex with Kyle."


	2. Chapter 1: Procrastination

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews!!! __Enjoy _

_Disclaimer: Same as before. _

There was nothing Bebe could do to make me feel any better, except lend me a pair of shoes and reassure me that it would be alright. I was grateful for the shoes, but I knew that it wouldn't be alright. I had cheated on my boyfriend with his best friend. How could I tell him?

_Maybe you don't have to tell him, _a voice in the back of my head reminded me.

I shake my head, trying to chase out the thought. Although it does sound tempting, I know that it won't solve anything. Besides, he'll probably hear it from somebody else, which is worse.

_Oh God,_ I think to myself, _What if people think I'm some kind of slut?__I know you're not supposed __care what about what other people think…but still…._

I open the front door and tiptoe upstairs, trying not wake up Dad or my sister, Cassie. Too late. Cass stands there, in the hallway, blinking sleepily.

"Wendy? Where were you? I woke up and you were gone."

"I…uh…" I'm trying to come up with a good excuse, but Cass sees right through me.

"You snuck out to see Stan again, didn't you?" she accuses.

_Damn, she's pretty observant for a seven year old. _

"No," I said truthfully.

Well, it was a partial truth; after all, I'm still not sure how I ended up in his basement……

I wake up again, to the sound of the phone ringing. I glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. 10:30 am.

I hear Cass calling up, "Wendy, it's for you!"

_Goddamn it, _I think to myself as I manage to crawl out of bed and stagger downstairs. _Can't everyone just leave me alone for a few hours?_

"Hello?" I manage to croak, looking around our mess of a kitchen for a clean glass.

"Wendy? Are you okay? You sound sick."

I find a glass, fill it with water and take a sip. Much better.

"No," I reply, "I'm just hung over, that's all."

Cass's eyes grow huge at this; I wave her away.

"Good," Stan sounds relieved. "Kyle told me-"

I cut him off sharply. "Kyle told you WHAT?" I snap, feeling my voice get squeaky, like it always does whenever I get pissed off.

Stan continues, "Kyle told me that he dropped you off at my place, that you had passed out or something. So I wanted to check up on you."

I feel like the scum of the earth after hearing this; my head starts pounding again.

"Look, I got to go." I say abruptly.

"Uh, okay," Stan sounds confused, and I feel even worse.

"See you tomorrow then. Love you."

"Love you, too" I mumble.

I stumble towards the medicine cabinet and start rummaging around. Where the fuck is the aspirin? Finally I unearth a bottle and uncap it, swallowing two capsules and collapsing on the couch. I flick on the TV; some Terrance and Phillip cartoon is playing.

_It's __all __my __fault,_ I think. _How could I have been so stupid? Stan had actually asked me to that benefit his family was supposed to go to; I should have said yes and I would have avoided this whole thing. _

All I want to do is curl up under a blanket and lie here all day, doing nothing. So I do, only getting up to go refill my chocolate stash. _Why bother now, _I think to myself. _I'll just deal with at school tomorrow. _And with that comforting thought, I fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Avoidance Techniques

_A/N: Sorry this chapter's so short! The next one will be longer, I promise. _

I shuffle up the steps, my pink high tops scraping against the rough asphalt. I'm dreading the walk down the long hallway and to my locker. I try to take as long as possible, but Stan spots me and starts heading towards me.

_Damn._

I run in the opposite direction, towards the girl's bathrooms. At least that's one place where Stan can't follow me into. Then again, knowing him, he'd probably try to.

_Oh God,_ I sink down to the tile floor, my face buried in my hands. I know that if I see him in person, I'd spill my secret, right in front of the entire school.

It's those damn eyes of his, those puppy dog, baby blue eyes. The second bell rings and I stand up, examining my face in the mirror. Same straight black hair. Same cerulean blue eyes, a shade deeper than Stan's. They are puffy and red from crying, and black streaks of mascara are running down my cheeks. I fish out my makeup bag to do a quick repair job, and then sneak into homeroom.

"Wendy Testaburger!" Mrs. Garrison's voice makes me jump.

"Why are you late to homeroom?"

"I..uh..um…had cramps. Yeah, I had really bad cramps."

"A likely story. Detention. Today, after school. I expect to see you there, Wendy."

I nod and sit down. I spend the rest of the day avoiding Stan, and skipping lunch. He finally corners me by my locker.

"Wendy, what the hell's wrong with you? You've been avoiding me all day."

I swallow hard, unable to answer.

He continues, "Look, I'm sorry if I did anything to piss you off."

I feel guiltier by the second and I can't meet his eyes.

Finally I'm able to choke out a response, "Starks's Pond. Meet me there after detention."

He nods, and I resist the urge to collapse into his arms. Instead, I turn and head into detention, tears brimming in the corners of my eyes.


	4. Chapter 3: Confrontation

_A/N: I know the dialogue sucks in this chapter, for some reason I was having a hard time writing this one. I'm going to try to make the next one better.__ Thanks for all the reviews__. Kisses-Lunagrrl180_

I'm pacing back and forth, my footsteps making crunching sounds in the frozen, dirty snow. Two arms grab me around the waist and I jump.

I turn and put a hand over my heart, "Jesus. You scared the shit out of me."

Stan grins, "So, what was so important that you couldn't tell me about it at school?"

A lump forms in my throat and I swallow hard.

"Look, "I pause, not really sure what to say, "We need to talk."

Stan's face falls and I instantly wish I could take back my words.

"I...uh…um…I did something…uh…."

I'm at loss for words and Stan looks at me curiously. I turn my head away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Wendy," he says softly, taking my face in his hands and pulling me closer, "its okay. We can talk about it."

He kisses me lightly and I feel even more like shit, if that's possible. I pull away from his grasp and sit on a log. He sits next to me, our knees touching. An awkward silence ensues, and after several minutes, I can't stand it anymore.

"I had sex with Kyle," I blurt out, then clap my hand over my mouth to keep the words from escaping.

Stan turns to face me, his blue eyes filled with shock, disbelief and hurt.

"What the fuck, Wendy?"

"I-I'm s-sorry," I stammer.

"SORRY!" he yells, "sorry doesn't even-"his voice softens, "How the fuck did this happen?"

"It was the night of Craig's party. I was really, really drunk. I-"; I stop and look down at the frozen ground underneath us.

"I'm sorry", I continue, "there really is no excuse."

I look up and Stan is walking away.

"Wait, Stan, "I call, "where are you going?"

He stops and turns around to face me, saying simply, "To find Kyle."

He walks away and I bury my head in my arms. _Shit._

_Kyle's POV _

I'm sitting on the couch, kicking Kenny's ass at Demonkiller 8 when the door opens and Stan storms in, looking pissed as hell.

"Dude-"I begin, but before I can say anything more Stan has me in a headlock.

"Dude! What the fuck?"

Stan is talking so fast it's practically unintelligible; I manage to catch the word "Wendy".

_Shit._ I manage to break out of his headlock, no small feat considering that Stan is the varsity football captain. My jade green eyes meet his baby blue ones in a stubborn staring contest. Behind me, Kenny sits on the couch, watching the action curiously. The game over music from the game only adds to the tension in the room.

Suddenly, my mother appears in the doorway.

"Bubbe, is Kenny staying over…" she trails off and disappears from view, as if she understood the intensity and awkwardness of the situation.

Finally Stan snaps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!?" he screams at me. "Do you like fucking other people's girlfriends or something?"

"Dude, I-"

Stan interrupts me, "Fuck you Kyle. I don't give a shit about your excuses. You can have Wendy if you want, I don't give a fuck."

With that he storms out and slams the door, disappearing into the fading sunlight.


	5. Chapter 4: Hijacking

_A/N: I decided to write something from Kyle's POV for a change. Please review. Kisses-Lunagrrl180_

I arrive in homeroom just in time, right before the 2nd bell rings. I had to walk to school; usually Stan picks me up in the hand me down truck that his Uncle Jimbo gave him for 17th birthday, but not surprisingly, he doesn't show up.

Mrs. Garrison's room is buzzing with the whisperings of the 30+ seniors trapped inside. It's Monday, and everyone is catching up on weekend gossip. A piece of paper lands on my desk, courtesy of Kenny. I open it and try to decipher his scratchy, sloppy handwriting.

**Dude, have you seen Stan?**

No, I reply, tossing the note back on his desk.

It comes back within 2 seconds; **He's been gone since Friday. His parents called the police Saturday, but nobody has found him yet.**

Meet me behind the chem. Labs after homeroom, bring Wendy.

Kenny nods and I sigh, staring into space. My mind is racing with a million thoughts; I feel guilty as hell. _It's __all my__ fault. I knew I shouldn't have gone to Craig's party. What was I thinking, succumbing to one night of drunken lust? Losing your virginity to your best friend's girlfriend, like that isn't too fucked up, or anything. And now Stan is going to do something stupid, and it's __all my__ fault._

I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of Stan getting hurt, all because of me.

I raise my hand, "Mrs. Garrison, may I please be excused?"

"No, Kyle. Mr. Hat has a policy about students leaving before announcements."

That was it; I couldn't just stay here, listening to stupid announcements while my best friend is missing.

"Fuck Mr. Hat!" I yell, "And fuck you Mrs. Garrison!"

I grab my backpack and bolt. Kenny follows, dragging a bewildered Wendy behind him. We run down the hallway, out the front entrance and down the block. Kenny stops, panting, at the corner of Main and Chestnut.

"Now what the hell are we going to do?" Kenny asks me.

Wendy stands behind him, mute, her blue eyes wide with shock. I pace back and forth, thinking. Then it hits me.

"Wendy, do you have a car?" I ask, and Wendy shakes her head no.

_Damn._ I start pacing again, choosing my words carefully. There seems to be no other alternative.

I take a deep breath and turn to Kenny, "Ken, we need to hijack your Dad's pickup truck."

Kenny shakes his blonde head back and forth, "No fucking way, dude."

"Come on, Ken," I press, "It's an emergency," I pout and finally he sighs and gives in.

"Goddamn it, Kyle, this better be worth it," he mutters as we race across the railroad tracks towards the

McCormick's dilapidated house.


	6. Chapter 5: California Dreaming

_A/N: A lot is going on, unfortunately and I'm behind on schoolwork (damn you, Wuthering Heights!__), so I'm going to have to wait a while before updating again, hopefully next week(__ish__) Anyway, I couldn't resist sending them to my hometown, wistful thinking, I suppose. Please review! Kisses to you all- Lunagrrl180_

_Kenny's POV_

I'm sitting in the back (the flatbed part) of my dad's truck, with Wendy and Kyle up front. _Bitches_, I think bitterly.

"Hey, assholes! Don't you have any ideas where the hell we're going?"

Wendy ignores me and Kyle simply reaches under the seat, grabs one of my Dad's old issues of Playboy and tosses it in the back, vaguely in my direction. I scramble towards it and lean up against one of the sides of the truck, skimming happily.

First stop: A drive through bank, where Kyle takes all of his bar mitzvah money out his account. I raise my eyebrows, slightly impressed that Kyle has the balls to make such a bold move, knowing that his parents will murder him when he comes back from our little adventure.

Second stop: One of those gas station marts. Kyle and Wendy head inside, for chocolate and Cheesy Poofs. I notice a pay phone; I reach into my pocket and count the few coins inside. 50 cents. I hop out and pick up the phone, dialing Stan's cell, desperately hoping that he'll pick up and we'll at least get some idea of where he is.

It rings once, twice, three times; I'm about to hang up when I hear a familiar voice, slightly irritated, "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you? Everyone has been looking for you, dude."

"Kenny? Where the hell are you calling from? This isn't your number."

I lean up against the concrete wall of the gas station, running my fingers through my shaggy blonde hair.

I sigh impatiently, "Where the fuck are you, Stan? I'm seriouslah, "I drawl, in an imitation of Cartman.

The connection crackles, I faintly hear him laughing in the background. Suddenly, I hear heated arguing, between Stan and some weird, random guy. _What the fuck?_

The connection crackles again, I faintly hear Stan say, "Los Angeles," before the phone goes dead.

"Fuck!"

I'm out of change and Kyle is back in the truck, honking the horn. Before I scramble back into the flatbed, I lean over and stick my face through the open window.

"Pull onto the interstate, "I instruct Kyle, "We're going to LA."


	7. Chapter 6: Temporary Insanity

_A/N__: Luckily, I was able to finish what I had to do __early (thank god) and__ was able to update sooner. __I apologize for the last few chapters, which have totally sucked ass. Stress +anxiety equals insomnia and crappy writing. Hopefully, this one is better. Thanks for all the reviews and please review this chapter!! Oh, and I've switched back to Wendy's POV, for some reason she's really easy to write. __Kisses-Lunagrrl180_

It was only 8 hours into what would be a long drive, and I was already on the verge on going insane. Kenny, thankfully, had shut the hell up upon discovering his father's extensive library of Playboys under the seat. It was Kyle who was driving me crazy, maybe it was just his way of dealing with the stress or something, but I swear to God, if he fiddles with the radio, taps his fingers on the steering wheel or starts shaking his left foot one more time, I'll rip my hair out, out of sheer frustration.

I sigh and look out the window. Same boring blue sky. Same fluffy white clouds. Same never ending desert. I pull out my silver cell phone and dial Stan's number again. No answer. I leave what feels like the 50th message, and sigh again. I'm not exactly the most patient person in the world, and the long distance feels like torture.

I slouch in my seat, wondering if my Dad would even notice that I was gone. He's so absentminded and work oriented, I think he forgets that he even has daughters. _Shit, I totally forget about Cassie!_ I sit straight up and pull out my phone, dialing Bebe's number.

"Hello?" Bebe's normally chipper voice sounds groggy and disoriented.

"Bebe, I need you to do a huge favor for me."

"Wendy? Where the fuck are you?"

"Never mind, I'll explain later. I just need you to get Cass and bring her to your house, take care of her for a few days."

"Sure, sure," Bebe sounds distant and absentminded.

"Now!" I feel my voice take on that annoying squeak that always seems to happen if get pissed.

"Fine! God damn, why are you so pissed off?"

I take a deep breath, trying to control my temper, "Sorry. Can you just do it, please?"

"Sure. Bye."

Kyle turns toward me, "What was that about?"

"I just needed someone to take care of Cass for a couple days."

"Shouldn't your Dad…" I shake my head sadly and he changes the subject.

"Do we have any idea where Stan is? I mean, LA is a pretty big city."

I shake my head, "No. We're going to have think creatively. If I was a 17 year old runaway, where would I go?"

"Venice Beach, with all the other homeless people?"

"Yeah, maybe we should check all the homeless shelters in LA; scour Santa Monica Pier, that kind of stuff."

I fall silent, lost for words, filled with anxiety. _What if he's hurt or hungry or all alone or sick; his asthma gets worse at this time of year…what if he's_, I can't even bring myself to think the word; I suddenly feel faint and my chest tightens. My breath becomes shallow and numbness creeps up from the arches of my feet to the tops of my legs.

I force myself to take deep breaths and calm down. _It's just anxiety._ I feel tears seeping out the corners of my eyes; I wipe them off with the sleeve of my shirt.

Kyle looks at me with concern, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine," I force a smile; "We should probably stop and grab something to eat before Kenny dies of starvation."

Kyle pulls off the interstate and stops at some random fast food joint. The ground feels unsteady as I walk towards the restaurant; I take a few deep breaths and try to pull myself together. _It's gonna be okay, _I console myself; _we'll__ figure it out and bring Stan home. _


	8. Chapter 7: Nocturnal Romance

_A/N: I thought that I was somewhat hopelessly deadlocked with this one, until I was listening to __Moi__ Dix __Mois__(Nocturnal Romance, I strongly recommend it) and__ came up with this. Please tell me what you think. Kisses-Lunagrrl180_

"Jesus tap dancing Christ."

I stumble out of the truck and squint in the bright sunshine. The sidewalk is full of people, like a New York subway at the end of the day. People stacked like sardines in a can. _How the hell are we going to find Stan in this __mess?_

I can't see a damn thing, only the tops of people's heads and beyond, a slice of the ocean, the green blue color reflecting off the sun. I hop up desperately, cursing my ballerina flats and petite frame. I shove some poor tourist out of the way roughly and make my way into the depths of the crowd, instantly assaulted by the smells of sweat, cheap perfume and in the distance, roasting meat.

In a split second, my wrist is up towards my nose; I inhale the leftover scent of sandalwood and frankincense in an effort not to dry heave. Standing on my tiptoes, I can only make out a maze of heads and hair. Straight enviable blonde hair, choppy brunette hair that looks like the owner had stuck their finger in an outlet, but no familiar slightly messy, slightly too long raven hair among the masses.

Out of nowhere, I hear a sharp whistle and Kyle's voice carries over the masses of people, "Wendy! Over here!"

I blindly try to make my through the crowd in the direction of his voice.

"Fuck!"

I stumble over someone's abnormally large military style boots and somehow end up in Kyle's arms. He turns crimson and I scramble out his accidental embrace, trying to recover my dignity. Kenny snickers and I turn around like a dog chasing its tail, looking for anything abnormal. My already dangerously short cargo skirt has risen up a good two inches, barely clearing my ass.

Flushing with embarrassment, I fix it, very carefully avoiding Kenny's eyes. I collapse on the small patch of grass adjacent to the sidewalk, leaning up against a palm tree. The strangely textured trunk pokes through my shirt and I squirm uncomfortably.

"Did you see him?"

I shake my head no.

Kyle continues," We should try walking further up north."

* * *

So we do, walking for hours, what seems like miles until by feet become so blistered that's it's nearly impossible to stand, let alone move. I try going barefoot, that lasts about 30 seconds, before the ninety degree sidewalk burns the bottom of my feet and I bit my lower lip, drawing blood, trying not to cry out in pain. 

Kenny offers to carry me, and I end up riding piggyback to where the car is parked. The sun is setting and we stop and pause, admiring the reflection of the pinks and purples in the glittering ocean. I consider it a small miracle that my feet aren't bleeding by the time I take the ten feeble steps from the sidewalk to the car. We drive in silence, not exactly sure where we are going, but Kyle seems pretty determined to keep moving. A car swerves and cuts us off and Kyle swears loudly. I had no idea he had such a colorful vocabulary.

As we drive down Sepulveda Boulevard, we pass the Veteran's Cemetery, with row after row of stark white, anonymous graves. In the fading dusk, I spot a familiar silhouette, standing beneath a huge willow tree.

"Stop!" I shriek and Kyle complies, looking somewhat startled.

"What?" he asks me, a slightly irritated tone in his voice.

I say nothing and simply point to the vanishing figure in the distance.


End file.
